


Whatever I Can Give

by thesecretmichan



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, M/M, Mind Meld, Porn With Plot, Post Star Trek: Into Darkness, Rimming, Star Trek: AOS, Star Trek: Into Darkness, Star Trek: Into Darkness Spoilers, crap idk, oh god feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretmichan/pseuds/thesecretmichan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You are the desert sky. You are the ocean's wind. You are the stars at night and the sun in the sky and the earth beneath my feet. You are my water. You are my air. You are," Spock whispers, clutching him tight, "my friend. You are my brother. You are my lover."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever I Can Give

**Author's Note:**

  * For [museaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/gifts), [sadspockpanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadspockpanda/gifts).



> SPOILER WARNINGS FOR THE THING (YOU KNOW WHAT THING I'M TALKING ABOUT OKAY) SO DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU.
> 
> why am I writing porn at 2 in the morning? why am I writing porn instead of of working on my TBB fic? (we just don't don't know.)

Spock feels Jim Kirk die.

The pain sends him to his knees, one hand clutching like a claw to his side, his throat raw as if he'd swallowed broken glass. His bones feel like they are rattling and he does not attempt to stand; Spock merely kneels there, drawing in breath after ragged breath in a flimsy attempt to pretend he has not just died, as well.

Spock is far, far too old for this.

Eventually he stands, his shields carefully in place, his mind very deliberately, painfully blank. He hobbles over to his computer, eases into the ergonomic chair, and tries to establish communications with the _Enterprise_ again. Predictably, there is no response. 

Spock cannot breathe. 

Very slowly, Spock folds his arms on the desk and lowers his head. He feels ill, despite his numerous attempts to regulate his biological functions, and he can't help the anger bubbling behind the wall he's put up. _This should not have happened_ , he thinks viciously. _It should not have been James Kirk_.

It should never have been James Kirk.

The agony in Spock's chest eventually fades to a dull ache, and he is able to get up and move around. He has to contact the High Council (what is left of them) and request (no, _demand_ ) a shuttle to Earth; he has to arrange for one of the scientists to oversee his projects for the time being. There will be a ceremony, and Spock will be damned if he is not in the front row. It occurs to Spock that this is the second time Khan has utterly destroyed their lives. It also occurs to Spock this will be the second funeral of Jim's that Spock has to attend.

Spock cannot do anything but shake as his shields come crumbling down.

***

Spock is in a daze for most of the trip to Earth, coming out of his quarters only long enough to maintain the barest of bodily functions. The food that Spock does eat tastes like ash, and it is a great effort to even keep the tea he drinks in his stomach.

Eventually, the shuttle docks, Spock departs, and the old Vulcan finds himself at a loss as to where to go next. No one stops him, the personnel darting at twice the normal pace (as if that would erase the traumas of the week before), but a few do stop to stare. Here he is, a nameless (to the Federation, at least), ancient-looking Vulcan, standing in the middle of Starfleet Headquarters with a half-empty satchel and a communicator with no number he can call. With a sigh, Spock picks a direction and starts walking. Perhaps he can find an admiral and find out when the service is.

Spock has not been walking long when he spies a familiar figure sprinting across the green, a PADD in one hand and a tall thermos in the other. Spock's first attempt to speak is rusty, garbled, and he has to clear his throat before he calls out, "Doctor!" A few heads turn, but the man doesn't falter his gait. Spock raises his voice. "Doctor McCoy!"

Now McCoy _does_ pause, coffee sloshing over his hand as he skids to a stop. He spits out a few curses before tossing the beverage in the recycler. As Spock walks over, the look on McCoy's face shifts from indignation to something more suspicious, and then something akin to shock. Perhaps he has realized who Spock is (it isn't that hard to draw the correct conclusion given the similarities in their appearances), or perhaps the good doctor is just surprised one of the few Vulcans left in this universe is here on Earth, calling for him. Regardless, he remains silent as Spock closes the distance between them, one hand on his hip, foot tapping.

It shouldn't come as a surprise, but Spock is still dismayed to find his hands are shaking. He hides them behind his back and meets the hard gaze of the friend he remembers so dearly. "Doctor," he says again, and Spock does not know how to make the words come out. "If you could perhaps tell me-" Spock's jaw trembles and he grits his teeth together. _Damn_ his age. "I need to know-"

Spock will fall apart if he has to say it. McCoy's face screws up in impatient frustration, but eventually Spock forces out a shaky, " _James Kirk_ ," and all the anger drops from his gaze.

"You want to see him, right?" McCoy whispers and Spock blinks a few times, nodding his head quickly. At least he will not have to say the words.

To Spock's complete and utter confusion, they bypass the morgue and head instead to one of the higher floors of the hospital, McCoy's ID badge granting him the clearance Spock probably wouldn't have received otherwise. They reach a door at the end of an empty hallway and McCoy waves his arm in a _Well? Go on_ motion. This cannot be right, and Spock will crumble if he has to do this.

"I do not understand," Spock weakly croaks. "I am here to see James Kirk's-" McCoy's eyes widen and he hisses, "You damn fool, _both of you_ ," and grabs him by the shoulder, steering him inside.

Spock very nearly collapses to the floor again. 

Jim Kirk is lying on a hospital bed, various machines and tubes connected in and around him, unconscious and _utterly alive_. As it is, Spock has to reach out to have the wall support him.

His younger counterpart is there, as well, and Spock can tell the young man has seen better days. Nevertheless, he nods to Spock and says, "I will give you a moment."

"Do you need anything?" McCoy asks and Spock numbly shakes his head. _No_ , he thinks. _I require nothing at all_.

Spock moves a chair beside Jim's bed, grabs his hand tightly, and holds on for dear life.

***

Spock can _feel_ it in the moments before Jim wakes - a spark of consciousness, of light, of the very thing that makes Jim _Jim_ , and Spock very nearly bursts out of his skin to feel it. He does not know how this has happened (Spock does not _care_ ); he only knows that there must be some sort of higher power, some form of fate that has smiled upon Spock and he thinks, _Jim would be pleased to know this_. So he reaches over to his communicator, calls Doctor McCoy, calls Spock, and informs them of the impending change in Jim's status. When they arrive, Spock steps out, because Jim does not need to see him here - the old man who accidentally formed a rudimentary ( _inappropriate_ ) bond with him one night in an ice cavern, this old man who sat for nearly two weeks clinging to a hand that wasn't his to hold.

Spock and McCoy both give him an odd look as he leaves (after all, they had been there as often as Spock had been, as well), but allow it without comment. He does not need to be there. Spock has been given more than he ever hoped for.

It will have to do.

***

"Is it even _possible_ to be dumber than your younger self?" McCoy barks on screen. "I mean _dammit_ , seriously?"

Spock allows one eyebrow to raise; he has missed this. "I do not follow," he says with an affected lightness in his voice he doesn't particularly feel.

"You know what I mean!" McCoy snaps, eyes narrowing. He mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like _you damn goblin_. "Everyone has been in to see Jim since he woke up," he continues. "Everyone except the idiot Vulcan who spent nearly every second possible by his bedside while he was recuperating. Wait."

Unbidden, one corner of Spock's mouth twitches. "Was there a point to your tirade, Doctor?"

"You know what I am getting at, don't you even pretend!" McCoy glowers. "Are you going to see Jim or not?"

Spock very nearly sighs. "He will not wish to see me," Spock explains.

"Bullshit," a voice exclaims from off-screen; Spock falters. 

McCoy doesn't even bother to hide his smirk. "See 'ya later, Gramps," he crows and hands the call off to Jim.

Jim is pale and thin and blessedly _alive_ , and Spock greedily drinks in every bit of the man's image he can. Jim, meanwhile, draws his eyebrows together in an expression part-fondness, part-confusion.

"Were you really not going to come see me?" he asks in a small voice and Spock's heart _breaks_ , agonizing shards cutting his side to ribbons.

"I did not think-" Spock starts.

Jim pulls on a cocky grin. "Well, now you know," he tells Spock definitively. "So get your ass over here."

What else can Spock do but comply?

***

The room is empty when Spock arrives, and he cannot tell if it is by chance, or if Jim Kirk has orchestrated the whole thing (Spock would not put it past him). Spock stands just inside the door, hands behind his back, and Jim sighs, throwing his head skyward.

"You're killin' me, here," he says dramatically and points to the chair Spock had left beside his bed. "Sit. Talk to me."

Spock sits and stares up at Jim. Jim stares back expectantly, and both of them know Spock is going to fold so he does it anyway to save them both some time. "Jim," he whispers, and he cannot keep the feeling out of his voice. He can, however, keep his hands to himself. This is not his Jim to touch as he pleases, despite the insidious little voice that tells him he did it already without the man's consent, what more harm could he _possibly_ do?

Unaware of Spock's internal turmoil, Jim's face softens and a broad smile spreads over his face. "Spock," he shoots back, settling against the pillows. "How 'ya doing?"

"I am well," Spock replies. It is true enough.

There is a long, awkward silence and Jim's expression shifts back to uncertainty. He licks his lips and says, somewhat embarrassed, "Look, you don't have to be here if you don't want to-"

"Your conclusion is based on faulty premises," Spock interjects before Jim can say anything else, "for there is nowhere I would rather be but here."

Jim practically melts at that, another smile that seems to switch on all the lights in the room on his face. "So, how long are you planning on staying?"

Spock does not answer, but he finds he doesn't need to. _As long as you need_ goes unspoken between them.

Jim hears it anyway.

***

Spock finds himself in an interesting situation. Though Jim insists his presence is welcome, his counterpart does not seem to share the sentiment (his younger self's questionable glances are not as covert as he seems to believe). Spock can understand the other Vulcan's hesitance; however, when his counterpart leaves everyday at eighteen hundred hours to see the young Lieutenant Uhura, it is Spock who watches Jim deflate at the man's departure, and it is Spock who diverts his attention to far less morose conversational topics. McCoy is there often, as well, but even the young Human has to sleep, and Spock has been faring fine so far with meditating while Jim sleeps.

Currently, both Commander Spock and Doctor McCoy are locked up in meetings, and Jim has been needling Spock for the past half an hour to help him get checked out so he can, to quote, 'Go sleep in a real goddamn bed for a change'.

"Come _on_ , Spock," Jim laughs, flashing him brilliant blue eyes and an even more brilliant smile. Spock quirks an eyebrow, with the knowledge that Jim is aware of _exactly_ what type of effect that lash-batting has on Spock. "Please?" he tries again.

"You do not wish to wait for your friends?" Spock asks (again).

Jim snorts, legs swinging off the biobed. "They're not getting out of those damn meetings until dinnertime," he argues. "I've been stuck in this bed for a week-"

"Nineteen point six days," Spock corrects out of habit and Jim rolls his eyes.

" _Consciously_ ," he amends. "I've done all my physical therapy, I've eaten their nasty food, slept on their lumpy pillows-"

"I can attest to the fact that not only is the food here satisfactory-" Spock starts.

" _Spock_ ," Jim near-whines; he leans forward with the coy promise that, "I'll be _good_ ," dragging one fingertip down the back of Spock's hand. Spock nearly jumps out of his skin. Jim looks up at Spock from under thick, dark lashes and Spock _knows_ he is doing this on purpose.

Jim Kirk will be the death of him yet.

***

Unsurprisingly, Spock agrees to escort Jim to his quarters after minimal charming of the doctors on staff and a forged signature from Doctor McCoy (Spock is too amused to be properly scolding). The trek lasts a bit longer than normal, if only because Jim insists on both taking the scenic route and getting up to walk around every so often ("For exercise," he insists with a grin).

Jim, shaky but pleased, leads Spock into his apartment with a, "Tada!" and promptly collapses on the couch.

Spock exhales slightly. "Jim," he starts, moving to help the Human back up. "I am certain you would be more comfortable in your bed."

In return, Jim threads his soft fingers through Spock's own, his thumb brushing down the side of Spock's hand. "If you come with me," he barters and lightly tugs him along.

There are many, many reasons Spock should say no to this, and Spock tells him as much. "I am old, Jim," Spock whispers. "I am not your Spock."

"Yeah," Jim laughs, "you are." Spock shoots him a look. With a roll of his eyes, Jim tugs on Spock's hand again and leads him toward the bedroom. "And who else would be my Spock? The younger you? The one who's dating Uhura?" The playfulness leaves Jim's expression for a moment and he says, quietly, "I may sleep around, but I don't poach other people's partners."

Spock, very carefully, reaches up with his free hand and draws two fingers down the side of Jim's face in a Vulcan kiss. Then he closes his eyes and stoops to give to Jim a Human kiss. "You undo everything that I am," Spock murmurs against his lips. _Only you are able to put me back together again_.

Though he knows the both of them are teetering on the edge of hysteria, Spock also knows there are things he needs to tell Jim before he can go any further. "The night we met-" Spock starts; Jim's tongue traces the tip of his ear and he gasps. "The bond I had," he tries again, "with your counterpart." Jim slides a hand through the opening of Spock's robe, dragging a fingernail lightly against Spock's nipple. "It sought out your mind - saw similarities."

"Duh," Jim tells him, finally divesting the older man of his outerwear. He makes a show of stripping his shirt off, of pressing himself flush against Spock. "What you think I didn't know?" he laughs. "It's my head, Spock."

Spock is at a loss. He stares down at this beautiful man, with bright shining eyes so similar and yet so different from his own Jim's, and find he loves this man all the same. "It does not bother you?" he eventually asks.

"Hell no," Jim confirms, and gently shuffles them both back on the bed. He captures Spock's mouth in another Human kiss.

Spock may be old, but he knows a thing or two, and he knows what buttons Jim Kirk likes pushed. Jim sighs when Spock scrapes his teeth down his neck, behind his ear; he moans as Spock tickles the sensitive skin of Jim's inner thigh. He arches his back when Spock takes him in his mouth, cries out when Spock presses sensitive fingers against an even more sensitive opening.

"Wait," Jim gasps and Spock withdraws.

"Forgive me," he says. "I assumed-"

Jim snorts and rolls over, grabbing a bottle from the nightstand. "You assumed right," he says with a grin. "But I-" Jim rubs a slick hand down his dick and Spock's brain short circuits (for lack of a better metaphor; it really has been too long), "-like to do this part myself."

Spock watches, fascinated as Jim works himself open in such a wanton display of exhibitionism (something his Jim had never quite been comfortable with); Spock makes a noise deep in the back of his throat and surges forward, crushing their mouths together, hands cupping Jim's face.

" _Yes_ ," Jim hisses and crawls into Spock's lap. He lowers himself down onto Spock's dick, agonizingly slow and oh-so-perfect, and Spock cannot help the sweet nothings that spill from his lips. Jim laughs. "All I caught out of that was 'darling'," he admits, rolling his hips.

Spock closes his eyes momentarily, then thrusts up. "Darling," he recites in Standard as he starts a slow, steady rhythm, "You are the desert sky. You are the ocean's wind. You are the stars at night and the sun in the sky and the earth beneath my feet. You are my water. You are my air. You are," Spock whispers, clutching him tight, "my friend. You are my brother. You are my lover."

" _Oh_ ," Jim breathes lightly, the look on his face nothing short of wonder. He braces a hand against Spock's chest and pushes him back. "Lie back," he urges. "Relax." Spock lies back and Jim rides him like his life depends on it.

Spock does not last long. He moans low in his throat, grabbing Jim's hips as he comes, fingertips digging what will soon be bruises into Jim's sensitive skin. Jim groans as he pulls off, promising, " _One second_ ," before running to the restroom to (presumably) clean himself. He returns a moment later, still hard, braced on his elbows above Spock, just studying him.

Spock does not appreciate the scrutiny and he raises one eyebrow at up the other man. Jim huffs a laugh and says, "Shut up, I'm allowed to look at you." Then he runs a hand through the grey and white hairs on Spock's chest. He licks his lips again. "How do you feel about me topping you? About me rimming you?" he asks almost shyly, and the thought alone is nearly enough to bust through Spock's refractory period.

"I do not object," Spock divulges (Spock does not object _one bit_ ) and Jim grins the grin of a wolf, disappearing between Spock's thighs to lick a straight line from his balls to his ass. Spock stutters helplessly and fists his hands in the sheets; Jim sinks his teeth into Spock's thigh and soothes the bite with a kiss before diving back down. Soon, a finger joins his tongue and Jim teases his ass lightly before slipping it in, crooking it up slightly. "Do Vulcans have a-?" Jim starts and Spock gasps out a, " _Yes_ ," arching his back.

Jim bites his lip and laughs, mouthing at Spock's skin again before returning his previous mission, adding in a second finger and slipping his tongue in between them. "Let me know when you're ready," he whispers, breath hot against Spock's skin.

"I am ready now," Spock insists, moving to get up.

"What? No, come on, I just started," Jim teases; nevertheless, he pulls Spock up and turns him so he's on his hands and knees. However, instead of kneeling behind him, Jim grabs Spock's backside and starts drilling his tongue in and out of Spock's ass.

" _Jim_ ," Spock moans out; Spock does not need to look behind him to know Jim is smirking.

"Don't tell me you're not enjoying yourself," Jim purrs, nipping at Spock's backside. "I know _I_ am." 

Jim continues this for so long Spock nearly considers _begging_ , until finally he pulls back, pressing two slick fingers into Spock's ass. A moment later, Spock feels the tight, blissful burn of Jim's cock. He groans again, pressing his face into the sheets, and the change in angle causes his breath to hitch.

"Oh, fuck yes," Jim sighs, grabs Spock's hips, and mercilessly sets a swift, brutal pace.

" _Jim_ ," Spock chokes out, curling his hands into fists. It's so intense it nearly hurts, and Spock can do little else but kneel there and moan. "Jim-" he tries again.

It takes some awkward maneuvering, a near fall off the bed, and a few quick assurances that _yes_ he was old, but _no_ he would not snap and break, but Spock ends up on his back again, thighs pressed up against his stomach, Jim slamming into him with a crazy look in his eye. From this position, it's so easy to reach up and initiate a meld, the barriers between their minds flowing open like an ocean. All at once, Spock can feel the tsunami of Jim's emotions, his jealousy, his fear, his confusion, his anger, and Spock swallows it all up, allowing his emotions to mingle with Spock's own, to let Jim know he is not alone ( _he will never be alone again_ ). Spock cannot take Jim's pain away like Sybok could, but he can hold Jim tight and whisper through the meld and promise, if not forever, then _whatever I can give_.

"Whatever I can give you," Spock swears, "it is yours. You must only ask it of me."

"Don't leave me," Jim begs, eyes bright and wet, barely holding back a dam of emotion. "Please don't leave me." 

Spock leans forward and kisses Jim's tears away. "I am yours," he whispers. When Jim comes, it rips a sob from his throat, and Spock takes it upon himself to clean them both up, cocoon them both under the covers (though, admittedly, Spock takes a few extra blankets), and initiate another, quieter meld. He soothes what he can of Jim's worries for the time being, and cannot find it in him to care how far he has fallen.

"I don't care either," Jim mumbles sleepily, and presses a kiss to Spock's nose before attaching himself to Spock's side.

Spock does not stop the smile that spreads across his face; he merely wraps an arm around his Jim and slowly drifts off to sleep.


End file.
